Amy nods. “Right, I forgot about that. She’s taught here for twenty years. She knew Lila, and, apparently, just before she died, Lila was collecting information for a reporter atThe Prince.” She turns her laptop so I can see the screen. “Unfair admissions practices—bribes, gifts, information. Did you know kids of Greystone alumni were getting an unfair advantage? Like more unfair than regular legacy applicants. She found emails from the dean of admissions—Greystone was straight-up paying him to let their alums’ kids into the school…Greystone covered up their part, they were never named in the scandal, just let the dean take the fall for it. Probably paid him to keep his mouth shut.”
I swallow. On her screen are articles and quotes about various public scandals that she suspects former Greystone members were involved in over the years. She has a list of their names and lines pointing to the scandal:BP Oil Spill, Bernie Madoff, Bear Stearns.Words circled in red:fraud, bribery, insider trading.I was starting to realize that this perfect life lived by Greystone members wasn’t so much given to them as it was taken from others.
“These are just the ones that made it into the news. For the most part, they managed to keep their crimes quiet. They resorted to everything from threatening to sue to blackmail, whatever it took to preserve their members’ reputation,” Amy tells me. “Professor Williams tried to help Lila with thePrinceinvestigation, but when Lila died, Professor Williams worried about her own safety and went quiet.”
I feel my head spin and place my hands flat on the table to steadymyself. I wasn’t totally naïve—I was aware that some members used the gray areas in the law to their benefit. Tax-related laws, mostly. Loopholes. Life insurance policies and charity write-offs. Giving their kids inflated salaries or bonuses. But this was worse. These hurt people. In the best cases, they were stealing from innocent people. And in the worst, their selfish decisions left people dead.
There had always been things I thought were odd. Sophomore year, Zee had been asked to give an interview vouching for a man’s character she’d never met. A few months after that, Liam had received an anonymous phone call, telling him to tell his father to sell ten million dollars’ worth of a certain stock.
But I’d convinced myself that belonging to this group didn’t meanIhad done anything wrong. The Society had done so much good too—the Legacy Foundation, the nonprofit organization, financed children’s hospitals and cancer research, community initiatives. Philanthropy was one of the things Greystone stood for.
“I reached out to Lila’s brother again,” Amy said.
“What did he say?”
“He doesn’t think Lila would’ve wandered off alone, certainly not with a storm coming. Lila was on the brink of exposing all of Greystone’s secrets to the world. I think she was murdered.”
Amy shows me a picture of Professor DuPont and Lila Jones that looks like it was taken at Sterling. Lila is not smiling but staring straight into the camera with the look of someone with a secret.
I go cold.Who killed you?
“You have to be careful,” I insist. “If your article isn’t airtight—”
“—they could come for me.” She nods, then looks down at her hands. “I know.”
“Amy.” I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
Amy’s eyes tear up. She nods.
I turn back to the picture of DuPont and Lila, resolute. “All right. Let’s burn this place down.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maya
December 2011
Over the next week anda half, I fell hard for Nate Banks. He was from Chicago—a family of boys. He introduced me to Roots Manuva and Timbaland and Kendrick, and showed me how he looped samples and mixed tracks in his room for his friends to rap on. Every time Nate entered a room, the air felt charged. It was likewe were revolving around each other, brought together by a magnetic pull.
So why hadn’t he asked me out?I wassurethe night we met at Terrace there were sparks between us.
—
The last Fridaybefore the winter break, Daisy and I met for breakfast at Sterling Club, and it all came crashing down.
“He’s what?” I asked again, unable to process what she’d said.
“Yeah,” she said. “He’s Cecily’s boyfriend. Well, not boyfriend, I guess, I think they’re just hooking up. I don’t think she’s serious about him.” She reminded me of how Kai had mentioned him the night we rode in Cecily’s golf cart.
Daisy pointed to the other side of the dining room, where Cecily and Nate sat next to each other at the end of the long table—she must have brought him to eat here after they’d spent the night together. Seeing them was like a blow to the chest: she was grabbing his arm and laughing like whatever he’d said was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. My heart broke.
—
It was snowingthat afternoon when I ran into cecily on our way to class. Her hair was rumpled, little flakes of snow landing on her hair and eyelashes, and she was wearing a plaid button-down.Was that his shirt?
“Hey, Maya,” she said, grinning.
“Hey.”
